She had lost her sense of direction, and was among unfamiliar streets. Wood; "that's the surest way!" "No! no! give it me!" vociferated Wood, snatching the pistol, and rushing to the door, against which he placed his back. "But I'll yet disappoint you. " "Who are you!" demanded the fugitive, sternly. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. She took it up in her many-ringed hands and read it judicially. "Can you pull him through?" was the anxious question. ‘I wish you joy of the wench. "We must change the subject," remarked Thornhill, pausing in his task; "this will never do. “I believe it is. .
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